No Regrets

“Dr. Moore would never hit you, Benny.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I know so.”

He fell silent, mulling that over.

“I guess it’d be okay, then.”

“I think it would be even better than okay,” Molly agreed mildly.

That little worrisome matter settled, neither Molly nor Benny said anything else. There was no need to. For both of them, the quiet companionship was enough.

* * *

Molly was packing away the last of her toiletries. She was finally being allowed to return home to her own apartment. At least that’s where she had thought she’d be going. Until Lena had shown up, determined that she come and stay with her.

“You and Reece have been acting like you’re newlyweds. The last thing you need is me hanging around your house.” Molly returned to the adjoining bathroom for the shampoo. “What if you want to make love hanging from the dining room chandelier while I’m in the room eating my microwave dinner?”

“Molly!” Lena appeared shocked that her sister would even think of such a thing. “You’re a nun!” Then color flooded into her cheeks as she thought of the fantasy game she and Reece had played last night. The one where he’d been a ruthless Norman plundering the Saxon countryside. And dear Lord, how wonderfully he’d plundered!

“All this is beside the point,” she insisted, shaking off the sensual memory. “Because we’re not going to be alone anyway.” Her shoulders slumped beneath her pale blue angora sweater. “Reece’s aunt called last night. She’s arriving in town this evening.”

“Theo’s coming here?” Molly had met Theodora Longworth at Reece and Lena’s wedding. A successful writer, she was a bold, larger-than-life character who could have stepped from one of the pages of her romance novels.

“She’s gotten an offer to be head writer for some soap opera,” Lena said glumly.

“Wouldn’t that mean she’d have to settle down?”

“I don’t know. I suppose so. I do know that if the woman is going to be living under my roof, I need someone in my corner.”

“Why? She seemed genuinely fond of you at the wedding.”

“She’s filthy rich, Molly.”

“So’s Reece. And that’s never seemed to bother you.”

“Because he’s never acted rich. Theo is just so…” Lena’s voice trailed off.

“Like Rosalind Russell’s portrayal of Auntie Mame?”

“With a lot of Bette Midler thrown in.” Lena sighed. “I’ll really feel better if you’re staying at the house, too. Heaven knows we’ve plenty of room.” Rooms she’d planned to fill with children.

Molly suspected that the invitation was more than a little due to Reece and Lena’s concern about her returning home alone to her apartment, which was in a neighborhood not much better than the area surrounding the hospital. However, whether or not they’d done it intentionally, they’d managed to come up with a situation she couldn’t refuse.

“Just for the next week or so,” Molly insisted. “But as soon as I come back to work, I’m returning to my own place.”

“Oh, thank you!” Lena rushed forward to hug Molly, remembering the cracked ribs just in time. “I promise, Molly, I’ll make this up to you.”

“There’s certainly nothing to make up to me. Lounging around your house is not exactly on par with doing missionary work in Zaire.”

“Wait until you spend a few days with Theo.” Lena’s expression of impending doom echoed her glum tone. “I hate this time of year, anyway.” She sighed and began picking at her fingernail polish. “Do you ever think about that night?”

“Of course.” Molly knew Lena was not referring to the recent Christmas attack, but the earlier one.

“I used to think about it all the time. It’s gotten better, but it never goes away. Like a scab I can’t resist picking.”

“May’s almost as bad,” Molly murmured.

“When you walk in the drugstore to buy some aspirin or tampons and get attacked by all those aisles of flowery Mother’s Day cards,” Lena agreed. “I didn’t think it bothered you. That once you became a nun—”

“God automatically took away the pain on my Profession Day?”

“Something like that.”

It was Molly’s turn to sigh. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way.”

“I guess not.” Lena walked over to the window and stared down at the parking lot, but Molly suspected it was not the cars she was seeing, but that long-ago scene that had been imprinted indelibly on both their minds. “Do you ever hear Mama’s voice?”

“No. I stopped being able to hear her about the third year after Daddy…after it happened.”

“I do.” Lena glanced back over her shoulder. “Every once in a while, I imagine I hear her singing. Remember how she used to love to sing?”

The memory was bittersweet. “Just like Patsy Cline.”

“Yeah. I remember her once telling me how tragic it was that Patsy had died so young in that plane crash. And then she died too young, as well....

“I think that’s why I turned wild for a while, until I met Reece,” Lena admitted. “Because I have this terrible fear I’m going to die young, too.” She dragged her hand through her thick auburn hair. “I look just like her, don’t I?”

Molly didn’t like where this conversation was going. “I suppose there’s some resemblance,” she hedged.

“I stole a picture the day the social worker took us away,” Lena revealed. “It was a snapshot of Mama in a bathing suit at the beach. I’ve kept it all these years. I look at that picture and it’s like looking in a mirror....

“Then I look in the mirror and it’s as if Mama’s ghost is looking back at me. As if she’s reminding me that I could die anytime, just like she did. Like Patsy did…

“Did you know that I’d planned my funeral when I was twelve?”

“You never said anything.”

“I wrote it all down. So you’d find it after I died. I still update it every year, but I’m always a little surprised when I don’t make all that many changes. I’ve planned your funeral, too. And Reece’s.”

“I didn’t know that, either.” Molly reminded herself that she’d only been a child herself, that she’d done the best she could for her sister under the circumstances. Nevertheless she felt a familiar stab of guilt that she hadn’t managed to provide Lena with the security she’d needed growing up.

“Of course you didn’t. Because I never told you. But it seems as if I’ve spent my entire life waiting to die. Waiting for people I love to die. Which was why I was so terrified of loving Reece.

“If he was ten minutes late coming home, I knew he’d had an accident on the freeway. If I called here and he didn’t answer his page, I was certain some crazed homicidal junkie had taken him hostage and was going to kill him. I was so fixated on all those morbid thoughts that I was too afraid to enjoy life.”

“And now?” Molly asked carefully.